When he could no longer follow the tracks in the gathering dusk, he rode back to the bridge and sat down to wait for them, knowing they must return that way.
It was full dark when he heard the plop-plop of the horses’ feet on the soft ground, and when they came close to him he moved forward a few paces and lit a match, holding it so that the light fell on his face.
He heard the creak of leather and scuffle of the horses pulled up abruptly; he heard Ess’s voice in a gasping cry—“Steve”—and his heart jumped at the ring of joy in the tones.
CHAPTER XXV.
When he had helped her to dismount, and Dan had ridden on with the horses, they stood in silence for a full minute listening to the growl and mutter of the river along its banks, and its gurgle and chuckle amongst the piles below them.
“Ess,” he said at last, “I’m afraid I misunderstood something you said lately, and I wanted first to say I’m sorry.”
“I said—lately?” she said, wonderingly.
“In the boat. But I know now you didn’t mean it, and I was wrong to have thought you did. I——”
“Please,” she said earnestly, “please say no more of it. I said nothing knowingly then that could have—hurt you. But I have said things—that night—that I have been very, very sorry for, and I’m glad you’ve given me this chance of telling you.”